


Always Accountable - Aftermath

by DarkeAngelus



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Episode: s06e06, Friendship, Gen, Spoilers, Wishful Thinking, post - episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeAngelus/pseuds/DarkeAngelus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham make it back to Alexandria and find their friends dealing with the aftermath of the Wolf attack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Accountable - Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot was written before S06E07 "Head's Up" aired so I know it isn't accurate. What the hell, I'm posting it anyway.

The sewer beneath Alexandria was proving to be quite the popular place. 

Daryl managed to make contact with Alexandria during the drive back from the aborted ambush in Linebrush. Between bouts of static, a dying battery, and the sheer distance that made the responses sound tinny and distorted, he, Abraham, and Sasha learned that the town was in deep trouble. Details were sketchy but they knew it wouldn’t be a simple matter of driving up to the gate. Not anymore. They saw that a few miles out as the number of walkers began to thicken. 

They drove past the township to a high point on the other side of the county line that let them get a partial glimpse of what was going on. The entire safe-zone was surrounded by walkers; it was the group from the quarry that had broken off from the main horde and attracted to Alexandria by the air horn and gunshots. They had descended on the place en masse like maggots to spoiled meat. 

Abraham summed it all up in two words: “We’re fucked.” 

Sasha sighed and crossed her arms. Her brow was furrowed as she tried to come up with a strategy to get past the threat. 

Like her, Daryl wasn’t ready to throw in the towel quite yet. Pressing the button to the walkie-talkie, he asked Rick, “Ya’all got any smart ideas how we can get back inside without gettin’ eaten?” 

That was when Aaron took over the conversation. 

The exit to the sewer was located on Alexandria’s north side. Nearby, there was an old dirt road that was fairly straight and went on for some distance. Jury-rigging the horn and gas pedal, they sent the gas truck slowly down the road and stayed back under cover until there was a break in the walkers that became attracted to the rig and staggered after it. The trio ran for the concrete ditch and jumped down to where Heath and Aaron were waiting, holding open the iron gate. They barely made it inside before some quicker roamers noticed the commotion and gave chase. Heath hauled the heavy door closed and had barely swung the chain around and locked it before rotten limbs and clashing jaws slammed against the barrier. 

“Damn! Too close for comfort!” Heath said, dancing away. 

“Welcome back,” Aaron said, offering them a slanted smile. 

“Is it as bad as it looks from the outside?” Daryl asked, helping Abe with his gear. Chalk it up to a former soldier to score a missile launcher and some military equipment. He had the sinking feeling they were going to need it. 

“It’s worse,” Heath said with his usual pessimism. “Roamers on the outside, Wolves on the inside.” 

“Wolves?! Those fucks made it in?” Abe thundered. 

“They slammed the tower with a big rig. That set off the air horn that attracted the herd. A couple of those sick fucks scaled the walls and opened the gate and-“ The black man broke off as they made their way through the labyrinth of tunnels. It smelled bad down here, but not so bad that it made talking difficult. It was just that Heath was visibly overcome with emotion. “Me and Michonne and Scott... we didn’t get back until the attack was over.” He looked over at Aaron who was leading the way back. “You wanna tell them what happened?” 

“Not really, no,” the tall scout responded. 

“Oh god,” Sasha asked. “Who died?” 

“Nobody from your group,” Aaron said, deliberately staying ahead so he wouldn’t have to look at them. “Thirteen of ours. Hacked to pieces or stabbed. Carol took point and got the majority of them. Rosita and I picked off a few. Same with Carl. Even Jessie. Morgan however ...” 

Abe prompted. “Yeah? What about him?” 

“He let a bunch go and they took some of our weapons with them.” 

“Gutless son of a dick,” the redhead seethed. He knew that there’d been something off about the guy right from the start. 

“That group ambushed Rick in the RV,” Heath said when Aaron went quiet, leading them past a junction where two moldering walkers were lying face-down in the dank water. Their rotten flesh was teeming with maggots. “He managed to take them down but the motor home got damaged in the gunfight. He had to run all the way back to Alexandria with that horde hot on his heels. Barely made it.” 

“So how many Wolves you guys all end up taggin?” Daryl asked, eyeing Aaron curiously. He'd noticed the bandage on the taller man’s temple, but there was something else that was off with his behavior. 

“Seventeen.” 

“Huh. Five against a batshit crazy gang. Nice going, man.” He slapped Aaron on the shoulder and was shocked when the man flinched away from him. 

“It’s nothing to celebrate,” Aaron muttered under his breath and stayed quiet until they scaled the ladder to the field behind the close-set township of houses. He got down on his knees to secure the sewer-grate after they’d collected all their gear. Daryl lingered behind, chewing the inside of his cheek as he did whenever he was trying to come up with something to say but Sasha grasped his bare shoulder to capture his attention. 

“You need to go to the infirmary. Get your head and arm checked out,” she said. 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he muttered. His head hurt from the graze of a bullet but the road rash on his left arm stung the most. Still superficial where past injuries were considered but getting an infection wouldn’t do any of them any good. Before he joined the others, he looked back at Aaron. “Hey. You okay?” 

Aaron had finished locking the bar that laid over the grate and now sat back in the grass, making no move to join them. “I’m fine. Just tired. Go get patched up, Daryl. Rick’s gonna want to talk to you when you’re done.” 

“Don’t doubt it. I’ll see you later.” 

Aaron nodded but didn’t look up. He just seemed to stare down at the grate for no reason the hunter could puzzle out. It was clear this wasn’t the time to talk so Daryl left him behind as he and the others went into the town. They had barely walked onto the main road when they felt how the mood of the safe-zone had changed. It was eerily quiet for one thing. The few Alexandrians that had ventured out of their houses looked dazed and wary at the new arrivals. No one welcomed them back. Their gazes actually looked resentful. 

“Most of the people in here are blaming Rick for bringing the roamers back with him,” Heath explained. “Aaron tried to come to his defense, but he’s on the town’s shit list, too.” 

Daryl was staring at Francine and Bruce who had stepped back to watch them pass. The pair were whispering to each other over some damn thing. He swung his head around to Heath. “What’d he do?” 

“He admitted he lost his backpack at that cannery. His pictures were what brought on the attack yesterday.” 

“Oh balls,” Abe grunted. “You know that for a fact?” 

The black man offered a vague shrug. “That’s what he told everybody.” He gestured to the wall that had “In Our Memory” written in black paint on one of the panels along with a staggering amount of names. “He’s taken the blame for the majority of those deaths.” 

“Why are Nicholas and Glenn on that list?” Sasha said in alarm. The words were fainter than the others, as if they’d tried to be wiped off, but were still visible. 

“They haven’t made it back yet.” Heath said. “Maggie and Aaron tried to get out through the sewer to go find him but there were too many to fight through. She’s convinced Glenn’s still alive though. If you can believe that.” 

“Yeah, I can.” Abe said, smirking at the memory of his run with Glenn when the man had been on the hunt to find Maggie after the fall of the prison. It had been like trying to contain a feisty gust of air. “Those two are a good match-up.” For no clear reason, he flashed Sasha a look, cocking his eyebrow. She pretended not to notice. 

“This town needs to get its head outta its ass,” Daryl growled. “It ain’t Aaron’s fault.” 

Heath was distinctly heard muttering under his breath; “He’s the one who brought your bunch back.” 

“You got something you want to get off your chest?” Abraham challenged, pulling him to a stop. 

Behind his glasses, Heath’s eyes brightened with rage. He gestured to the wall. “Those names up there are from our community! We never had anything go wrong until _you_ were brought here.” 

“What about the four people that Aiden and Nicolas got killed? Those two cowards were also responsible for Noah and he was one of _ours_. I guess you forgot about him.” Sasha said with a hard edge to her voice. “Out of this whole place, you’ve got one man _–one-_ who knows how to actually fight and you have the nerve to dump on him? Aaron saved our lives!” 

“And responsible for indirectly killing just about the same number of _our_ people. We were better off before he and Eric found you.” Heath sneered. 

“I think you’d best fuck off before I rip that Predator shit off your head,” Abe threatened. 

Daryl added. “We know where the infirmary is. Get lost.” 

“No problem. Not that it’s much good without a real doctor thanks to Rick,” was the black man’s parting shot before he boldly turned his back and walked away in another direction just so he wouldn’t have to look at them. 

“I’m about _this close_ to giving that asshole a rocket-propelled enema,” Abraham grumbled, gripping the harness to the rocket launcher tighter in one huge hand. 

“It’d just be a waste of ammunition,” Sasha said, and that closed the topic for the moment. 

Denise, who had been abruptly recruited into playing resident physician, was a little more pleasant to deal with. It seemed to have something to do with having Tara there assisting her as they cleaned Daryl’s wounds and patched him up. From them, the trio learned more details about the attack and the aftermath. 

“So, Rick’s in charge now,” Sasha said, quietly nodding to herself. She didn’t seem as content about it as Abraham appeared to be. 

 _Just like he wanted,_ Daryl thought but wisely kept it to himself even though Rick’s ambitions to take over the township weren’t exactly a close-knit secret anymore. If anything, it put one hell of a sizable target on his back. Deanna was mentally broken and her son was no heir to the Monroe throne judging from the sounds of things. Who else was available to take up the reins? “It’s the prison all over again,” he finally said. When he was aware that the others were all looking at him, he explained the situation with the walkers that had attacked the prison walls and how the Governor had taken advantage of the confusion. “Believe me, Rick knows what he’s doin. We just gotta follow his lead.” 

“They really used a big-assed tank?” Abraham looked almost nostalgic at the thought. “I’d give my left nut for one of those right about now.” 

This time, Sasha spared him a demure smile. “Boys and their toys.” 

Abraham flashed her a predatory grin. “A guy’s gotta do _something_ with his hands instead of-“ 

“Okay!” Tara made a time-out gesture. “Nobody needs to hear that, tough guy.” 

“Aw, you dunno what I was gonna say.” 

“Oh, I have a pretty good clue. It was going to be something gross.” 

“Well, yeah. Maybe... Probably.” 

Denise was silently considering the rag-tag group that were so different from the reserved, well-polished inhabitants of Alexandria she’d become accustomed to. The corners of her mouth lifted up a little in amusement. “Go home and get some bed rest,” she told Daryl when she finished bandaging his arm. “Stand-in Doctor’s orders.” 

“Ain’t much for keeping still,” was the hunter’s response, flexing his arm. The mere action popped the butterfly clips and the bandage started unraveling. “And I wouldn’t call ya no friggin doc, neither. Shit.” He started re-wrapping the gauze with his free hand as he got up to go to the door. 

“She's actually getting better. I’m letting her practice on me,” Tara said, and the two women broke off giggling. 

That raised an eyebrow out of Abraham as the trio left the building. “What the hell? Are those two...?” 

“Sounds like it.” Sasha looked more amused than anything. 

“Huh. I’m beginning to think the flag for this place should be that damned rainbow one.” 

Sasha and Daryl immediately flashed him a sharp look. He actually managed to look a little ashamed of himself for the remark and ducked his head as he started to walk away. “I’m gonna go home. Got some shit I need to settle out,” he muttered under his breath. 

“That man...” Sasha shook her head in irritation. “Not the brightest tool in the shed, but he has heart to spare.” When Daryl made no comment, she said, “I’m going to check out the armory. I’d offer to turn in your crossbow but I see you left it behind. Was it broken when you lost the bike?” 

“Yep.” Was all the hunter would say of it. 

“Sorry about that.” 

“Me too. I miss ‘em both already.” He started walking down the road, passing a glance at Aaron and Eric’s house which was directly across the road. Sasha took the opposite direction to where the weapons storage was located. 

Four houses up the street was one of two houses that Rick's group had settled in. Daryl supposed given recent events, some of them would be able to move out into others now made available. It was a grim reminder of the losses the place had suffered while they'd been out playing Pied Piper with thousands of undead following their vehicles. Thousands more now encircled the entire compound and their wheezing groans and hitting the walls echoed across the safe-zone as background noise that couldn't be easily ignored. Sure, these walls were well-constructed but all it took was one weak link; it could be in the form of a person, event, or panel. In light of that, picking out abandoned houses to spread out into might be planned for later. 

If they survived. 

Daryl liked to hope for the best, but optimism was a recent thing and his experience with the pair of assholes who'd taken his bike and crossbow had pretty much extinguished it. He was sore and tired and just wanted to get away from it all, even if it was for a little while. 

Going into the house, he was greeted by Michonne, Carl and little asskicker. Honestly, he would die for that baby, he really would, and seeing her brought a smile to his grim features. It felt like weeks since he'd managed the act. Probably has been. 

"Glad you made it back," Michonne said, giving him a hug even thought he knew he smelled like sweat and ashes. When she pulled back, she looked at his bandaged wounds. "Were you in an accident?" 

"Somethin' like. I'll tell you later." Information about the new threat of assholes was important but he had his priorities on who to tell first. "Where's Rick?" 

Michonne nodded over to a room off the kitchen area where the door was shut. Carol was standing outside of it, dressed in her far more familiar gear of military boots and casuals with a gun strapped to her hip. "He's been in there talking with Morgan for the last hour. It's not good." 

"Why not?" 

"Carol found Morgan trying to sneak Denise down into the make-shift cell where he's been keeping a Wolf tied up this entire time. Seems he and that guy have history. They've met before." 

"Goddamn it," Daryl grumbled. "It's jus one thing after another with that asshole." He walked over to where the older woman was standing. Carol whirled on him before he'd even had a chance to address her. Her face was startlingly pale and her light blue eyes were huge in her face. Shocked by her appearance, all of he could think of saying was, "Hey." 

"Hey yourself," she said back in a voice that wasn't quite steady. 

"Heard you were one hell of a defender for this town. Terminus all over again, huh? Way to go." He gently touched her shoulder and could feel her quivering. 

She managed a palsied smile, but it looked wrong on her face. "Could've used you," she admitted. "Really could have used you here. It was...was..." 

"I'm here now," he said and was shocked when she suddenly hugged him. His arms stayed frozen in the air for a few seconds before he gently held her as if she were made of glass. "Aw jeez, Carol. I don't- Are... Hey, you okay?" 

"No," she whispered against his vest. It sounded like she was crying. "This wasn't like Terminus. I knew these people. I thought I faked liking them, but I-" She drew in a shuddering breath. "I really did. They were weak, naive idiots, but they didn't deserve to die like-like _that_." 

"You did real good. I'm proud of you," he said, and he was being entirely honest. The transition she'd made from mousey housewife to badass soldier was damn near frightening. When he'd first met her, he never could have imagined she'd ever make it on her own. And here she'd almost single-handedly saved this place from being over-run. "You're one hell of a hero. This town's lucky to have you." 

"Is it?" She drew away, wiping her eyes. "I saw the wall. All those names... I should have done more." 

"You did enough," he said, damning himself for not turning back when he'd first heard of the trouble back in the town. Who knew how much help he could've been? In the end, he'd decided to stick with Abe and Sasha. It was a choice he'd have to live with. "Hell, if it've been your name up there I-" 

He didn't get the chance to finish the sentence. Rick suddenly opened the door, sparing Daryl a relieved nod before looking over at Michonne. "Can you come in here? We need to talk." 

Michonne didn't look happy to be singled out for whatever was to come but she obeyed. Slapping Daryl's unmarked shoulder again, she went into the room where Morgan was sitting quietly and staring out of the nearby window. The door closed after her. 

Daryl and Carol were alone again. They stared at each other for an awkward moment before she turned away to go to the kitchen. "Go get cleaned up. I'll make you something to eat." 

He wasn't sure what sounded better: food or a bath. In the end, the bath won out. He wearily scaled the stairs. He could make out the indignant words of; _"-the hell brought this on?"_ as he walked past the closed door of Abraham and Rosita's room, but didn't dwell on it. The pair often argued and didn't bother keeping their voices down, not even during sex. 

He went into the bathroom, shed his filthy clothes and bent his head under the bathtub faucet right after turning it on, not caring that it was cold at first. When he was finished washing his hair, he climbed into the lukewarm water and simply layed there. He'd always preferred a bath to a shower, even back in the days of living in his ramshackle hovel of a home and having to share the bathwater after Merle had used it. It hadn't been until he'd been older that his old brother actually bragged that he used to piss and jerk off in that same filthy water before it'd been his turn. 

"Don't miss ya none," he mumbled, having the sense of mind to shut off the taps with his foot. "Thought ah might, but ah don't. Not one bit." He fell asleep in the tub, slumping into the water that went up to his hip and by the scent of clean soap and sheer quiet. He stayed like that for an unknown period of time before there was a knock at the door and he jerked upright in surprise, splashing water. 

 _"Are you alright in there?"_ Carol's worried voice. Judging by how cold the water was now, he must have been asleep for at least an hour or more. 

He was actually blushing as he grabbed a washcloth and the bar of soap and started scrubbing. "Yeah. I jus... I'll be out in a few." He was conflicted by a desire to invite Carol in to help him and wanting his privacy. God, this communal living thing was going to be the death of him. 

 _"Supper's waiting for you when you're ready."_  

"Thanks." 

The water was brown by the time he was done and when he'd dried off, he wrapped his arm and replaced the bandage over the stitches on his temple with more skill than Denise had managed. He could've told her he'd been tending to his own wounds since he'd been a kid, but it wasn't any of her business. In his room, Carol had laid out a fresh change of clothes on his bed. Where she'd managed to find a Harley Davidson sweatshirt in his size escaped him, but he pulled it on gratefully. Smelling detergent and fabric softener was something new for him, but damned if he didn't think he could get used to it. It was another reason he desperately didn't want this place to fail. 

Dressed, he went downstairs and saw Rosita and Tara sitting on the sofa expressing disparaging viewpoints about men. Deciding he wanted absolutely nothing to do with that conversation, he went over to the kitchen where Carol was setting out a place setting. 

"It's leftovers from a casserole I made yesterday," she said in that same, emotionless voice. "Not many people have had much of an appetite lately." 

That was okay, he had enough appetite for the entire household and ate more than his fair share. "You ain't hungry?" He managed to get out around mouthfuls. She was just standing across from him watching him eat and it was freaking him out a little. 

She managed a sad smile. "No." 

Carol had been kicked out of the prison by Rick before it had fallen to the Governor so she hadn't had to witness that carnage. It could be the shock of dealing with the recent attack that was bothering her, but he wasn't so sure it was as cut and dry as just that. "What's wrong with you?" He asked bluntly. He'd never been one to dance around issues with her before and wasn't going to start now. 

She looked shocked for all of two seconds and then turned to the side window that looked over into Ms. Neudermyer's back yard. For some reason she betrayed a shiver. "It came so easily," she said in a small voice. "Blending in with the Wolves, killing them, putting people I knew out of their mercy. I hardly had to even think." Her eyes glittered with tears when she looked at Daryl. "Where was all that violence and skill when Ed was beating me? Or when he was looking _that way_ at Sophia? She might be alive now if I'd had that kind of backbone back then." 

"We've all changed. You fer the better. Definitely for the better." 

"Too late, though." 

"Merle called ya a late bloomer. Instead o' bein' crushed by all this shit, you adapted. Ya can't put yerself down just 'cause you've become a survivor. It's a helluva good thing that it happened when it did. Who knows about what might'a happened with Sophia? I feel that way about Beth." 

"You did everything that you possibly could for her." 

He shook his head. "I lost somethin. Dunno when. Dunno how. I let myself get soft and stupid an she paid for it." He thought to recent events, like how easily that pair had stolen his bike and gear. Not once but _twice_. "Ah ain't nearly like I was. Not no more." 

"You've become the core of our group, Daryl. In many ways, one of the best of us. I think that's why Aaron singled you out to work with him," she said sincerely. 

 _Aaron._ His head snapped up and he looked around at the door. He got up from the chair. "Shit. That reminds me. He was actin all weird when we got back. I meant to go talk to him." 

"He'll either be home or at one of the look-out posts along the gate," she told him. "He really came through for us. I thought he was weak, like all the others. But he's not." 

He was glad to hear the praise coming from her. She'd been acting so oddly lately, she'd nearly become a stranger but she was coming around to returning to the Carol he fondly remembered. "I'll be back soon." 

Some warmth had returned to her smile when she said, "I'll be waiting." 

Given recent events, Daryl wasn’t too surprised by the “Sorry We’re Closed” sign beside the door to Aaron and Eric's home. He tried the doorknob, found it locked (again, not any surprise) and brought his fist down on the surface. He wasn't sure if Aaron was home yet, but he knew it was likely that Eric was inside. Almost immediately, he heard the redhead shout from the other side of the door. " _I said I don’t want to talk to you! If you use your key, I’ll chase you out with the croquet mallet!”_  

“What the hell...?” Daryl murmured. “Hey! It’s just me!” He called out. 

There was a long pause of considering silence before the door lock was undone, but the chain wasn’t. Eric opened the door far enough to look out. “Welcome back. I’m afraid this isn’t a good time though, Daryl. I’m sorry.” He started to close the door and the tracker quickly wedged his foot into the space. He just matched the redhead’s astonished look with one of his patented glares. 

After a brief stand-off, Eric relented and undid the chain, stepping back. “Aaron isn't here.” 

“Yeah, pretty much figured that out. Just came over to make sure you were okay.” Daryl looked around and saw that the couple’s home hadn’t been left unscathed. Eric appeared to be in the process of cleaning up the mess of broken furniture and personal belongings. 

Eric settled into one of the kitchen chairs and massaged the area above the walking cast he now wore on his left foot. “Guess I should be asking how you are instead.” He nodded to the bandages on the other man’s arm and forehead. “What happened?” 

“Ambush. Ran into some nasty assholes soon after me, Abe an Sasha ditched the herd.” He saw the look of alarm cross Eric’s face and intercepted the next question with, “They weren’t Wolves. It was some other bunch o’ pricks.” 

Eric’s shoulders slumped with frustration and, from the look of him, a great deal of exhaustion. "Guess you were lucky to get away," was all he could think of saying. 

"Luck had somethin' to do with it, I guess." _Stupidity was another_ , but that wasn't something he was willing to admit. "What's going on here?" 

Eric motioned to the torn-up couch and rifled-though belongings with an agitated gesture. "What's it look like?" 

The hunter fixed him with a hard look. "That ain't what I mean an you know it." 

"Aaron and I are having what I'd suppose you'd call a _domestic_." 

"Ya'll have to translate that. Ah don't speak suburban." 

"We're having a fight." 

"No shit. You're not givin him grief over that stupid backpack crap too, are ya? A friggin walker ripped it offa him. Wasn't no way he could've retrieved it." 

"I know the story," Eric said with amazing hostility. "I burned the fucking thing and told him to keep his damned mouth shut. Instead, he decided to play the martyr in front of the whole town. That's not even the problem here." 

"What else happened?" 

"By the time I heard the story, he was in the infirmary getting stitches for the cut on his forehead," Eric said. His pale cheeks were beginning to get flushed with rising anger. "Turns out, Maggie was going to go over the wall to look for Glenn when Aaron showed her the sewer passage. They left without telling me. I don't think I even crossed his mind." 

"Oh." Daryl could understand how that would upset the other man. 

"That's how your group got back in, right?" 

"Yep." 

"Then you saw for yourself that the tunnel doesn't extend far enough beyond the wall. Aaron was going to go anyway even without her. She held him back." Eric's voice grew rough with emotion. "He would've gotten killed. I think that was what he wanted. All because of that damned backpack. He blames himself for the deaths written on that wall and I can't snap him out of it. I think-" He swallowed and cleared his throat. "I'm scared shitless that he's going to try and do something else stupid." 

"Shuttin' him out ain't gonna help the situation none," Daryl responded. "I've seen some fucked up relationships in my time but damned if what you two's got ain't one of the best I ever seen." 

"I'm angry," the redhead whispered, but the emotion seemed to have abated a little in the face of the other man's words. "I don't want to be but, he just... He left me behind! That really hurts." 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Daryl took a deep breath and composed his thoughts. He didn't know why talking to either of the gay men came more easily to him than with his own people. Maybe it was because they had accepted him so quickly when everyone else, even Rick, had kept him at arm's length until deciding he was worth trusting. He didn't know for sure. He only knew he didn't like to see either of them in distress. "I went home and saw Carol. That attack really rung her bell. Hadn't seen her that bad off since we found out her daughter was a walker and got gunned down in front of her. She ain't herself." 

Startled by the change of topic, Eric frowned at him. "Why are you telling me that?" 

"Carol's had the time to work up to bein a hardcase an this attack _still_ rattled her. Aaron helped out in a situation not even some of our own people could've handled. I know for a fact he ain't used to it. You need to cut him a break. His goin with Maggie wasn't nothin personal. Probably more of a knee-jerk reaction to all the shit that's gone down than anythin else. He still looked in shock last I saw him." 

"He hasn't been able to sleep properly since that Wolf trap with the car," Eric admitted. 

"Shit. That was almost a week ago, man, and you wonder why he's acting fucked?" 

"But _he-!"_  

"He needs you," Daryl cut in, raising his voice. "Take it from someone who's lived his whole waste of a life pushin folks away. Goin' it alone don't cut it in this world no more. Believe me, I _know_." 

Eric breathed in hard through his nose. It sounded like he was sniffing back tears and offered the hunter a defeated nod. He swallowed hard and finally said in a calmer voice, "Thank you, Daryl." 

"We good?" The question was more along the line of; _Do you understand where I'm coming from?_ Eric was smart, smarter than most people Daryl knew, and could read between the lines when he had to. 

"We're good," he whispered. 

"Where's he now?" 

Eric betrayed a shake of the head and made a vague gesture with his hands. "Maybe helping to dig graves or reinforcing the panels with Tobin. He could be on watch somewhere along the gate. Hell, he might even be off somewhere drinking with Spencer. I honestly don't know anymore. He can't keep still." 

"I'm gonna track im down an send him back here. I know yer feelings are hurt, but you gotta drop this shit. Understand? He needs some downtime before he cracks. Knock him out with a fuckin hammer if you have ta." 

Instead of being angry, the redhead favored him with a weary smile. "I think I have some duct tape squirreled away somewhere. That'll do for a start." 

"Good thinkin'," Daryl said and went on the hunt. 

He did the rounds of the wall and found the scout up on a makeshift platform on the town's south side. He was alone. Daryl called out to him, but got no response and scaled the aluminum ladder. What he saw when he reached the top shocked him. 

Aaron was standing precariously close to the edge of the wall looking down at the walkers pressed up against the heavy plate metal trying to get at him. His eyes were at half-mast as if he were in a trance and he was swaying slightly. Daryl realized he was close to falling asleep on his feet and about to fall over the edge. With the reflexes of a cat, he jumped to his feet and ran over and grabbed the scout's shirt, hauling him back as hard as he could. The pair fell backwards on the platform in a sprawl of arms and legs. 

"Ow! _Shit!'_ Aaron had landed on the rifle that was strapped to his back. He rolled over and looked indignantly at Daryl. "What the hell did you do that for?" 

"You were seconds away from becoming walker chow!" The hunter shouted at him, rattled by the near-miss. One minute late and... "You were close to falling asleep right where you were standing." 

"I was?" The last thing Aaron remembered was climbing the ladder. The rest was a blur. 

"I thought you had to have a partner up on these things." 

"Rosita was supposed to meet me here." He sat up and looked around. "She hasn't shown up yet?" 

Daryl smoothed back his still-damp mop of hair. "No, and she ain't likely to. I think she an Abe are havin a- whatchamacallit? A _domestic_." 

That brought a sharp look to the younger man's face. "Have you been talking recently to Eric?" 

"Wouldn'ta found ya if I hadn't. He wants ya back home pronto." 

"Last time we talked, he kicked me out of the house. What's changed?" 

"Christ, what hasn't?" Daryl gestured out at the ruined landscape. There seemed to be shambling dead folk as far as the eye could track. "I got things covered here. Go home, man." 

"You're not even armed. Where's your crossbow?" 

The hunter chewed on his thumb for a couple of seconds before he grumbled, "Same place as my bike." 

The man nodded with understanding. "As soon as we find some way to disperse this herd, we'll go get it." 

"Not fuckin' likely." 

Aaron frowned in confusion. "Why not?" 

"Ah got my fool ass robbed!" Daryl suddenly shouted at him. He'd vowed, earlier, that this was something he was prepared to take to the grave, but it was bugging him too much to keep buried. In a rush, he told his former recruiting partner what had happened after the ambush. He had tried his old routine of asking the three questions; of simply trusting his gut, and had gotten badly burned in the process. "So much for knowin' the difference between a good person and a bad one," he scoffed. 

Count on Aaron to see a different perspective to the whole scenario. "That instinct doesn't work on someone who's desperate. You let them have your bike for good reason." 

Daryl looked at him as if he were crazy. 

"Think about it," the scout pressed. "You went back when you discovered the insulin. You helped them bury their dead. You knew that man wasn't a killer after asking the three questions. If you'd wanted to, you could've rushed him and easily taken back what was yours. You saw a couple who were on the run and scared for their lives and you gave them a way out. You're a good man, Daryl Dixon." 

Daryl mulled over the words for a moment and then looked directly at Aaron and said, "Man, you are so fulla shit I'm surprised it ain't runnin outta yer ears." 

And damned if Aaron didn't betray a guilty little smile, adding a slight shrug for good measure. "Hey, I tried. What'd you want me to say? You were a dumbass? Fine. You were a dumbass." 

Daryl's lips twisted into a sardonic smile and he betrayed a wry snort. "Anyone else who'd say that to me, I'd punch 'em in the face." 

"Eric and I made more than our fair share of mistakes starting out. And, yes, we got our fool asses robbed too. On more than one occasion, actually. So cut yourself some slack. It comes with the job." 

"It happened to you?" Daryl eyed him dubiously, wondering if the man just wasn't trying again to tell him what he wanted to hear. 

"Oh yeah. Food, gear. One time even all our clothes. That was a _really_ bad day." 

Daryl laughed again and this time, he was relieved to hear Aaron join in. "Eric's cool with the whole Maggie thing now. He just wants you to come home." 

Aaron spared a wistful glance in that direction. "You alright being here alone?" 

"This ain't my first rodeo. Get going." 

"Okay," he said, climbing slowly to his feet. He slipped the rifle off his shoulder and handed it over. It was a rare Browning automatic with a hand-made suppressor. Daryl didn't know the whole back-story but it was one of the weapons Aaron had managed to scavenge from his father's house along with his .38 special. He didn't talk about his parents, particularly his mother, often but he did seem to particularly cherish the weapons. Being entrusted with one of them did not go unnoticed. 

"You sure?" Daryl said as Aaron went to the ladder and carefully let himself down. 

"Right now, it's safer with you." Aaron flashed him a broad smile. "Glad to have you back." 

His head ducked down before he saw Daryl's humbled smile in return. "Glad to be back," he muttered under his breath. In spite of the stench of the massed walkers pressing at the gates, he believed it with all of his might. 

It sure was good to be home.


End file.
